


Blossom Out

by sauer (Showert_ime)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Brief Sex, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maintenance Man!Kyungsoo, Romance, Slice of Life, Social Anxiety, attempts at humor, handjobs, university student!jongin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-12-22 08:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11963277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Showert_ime/pseuds/sauer
Summary: Prompt: Kyungsoo, a maintenance man, has a crush on the cute boy in apartment 605 that leaves him adorable little thank you notes, but he’s not sure how to get his attention, especially with his severe social anxiety.





	Blossom Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kairousels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairousels/gifts).



> To my dear recipient: I really, truly loved each of the prompts and had I had even more time, I would have liked to work on them all (not but seriously OKAY). I have no idea if you're going to like this or not, if this is what you wanted or not, BUT I TRIED I SWEAR and I'm glad I pulled through for you. ;___; please take my heart  
> To the mods: Thank you thank you thank you so much for your understanding. I hope to be writing for your fest again. LOVE TO YOU ALL.

Blurry words come out of the walkie-talkie at Kyungsoo’s belt and he glances down, pressing one of its buttons while lifting it to his mouth. He didn’t discern a thing of what was spoken through the device; he was lost in his own bubble of thoughts, painting the window ledge at the very end of the corridor. “Sorry, didn’t catch that. Say again?”

He peers down at his shoes as if they are deserving of his interest while awaiting more information, careful not to lean against the fresh coat of crème beige he just put. A few seconds pass that are only filled with white noise before the voice on the other end reappears. This time, he understands clearly.

_One of apartment 605’s door joints is broken and it needs to be changed. Can you go now?_

The new tenant from apartment 605 moved in just last week, and they had to call twice before today for other technical problems.

From what Kyungsoo has observed in the last few months, the previous inhabitants of this section didn’t care much for leaving it in a good state. At least, the apartment building in itself isn’t shady; it has been built a couple of years ago only and is generally well-maintained.

Kyungsoo knows a thing or two about that.

He wonders how the new tenant will turn out to be, too. He hasn’t caught a glimpse of them yet. 

He nods before remembering no one can see his nonverbal answer, and only then he forces his vocal chords to proceed. “Yes, I’ll go now. Is there anyone in at the moment?”

More acoustical noise. _I think they just left._

This means peace while fixing the problem. Granted, fixing a door joint isn’t a complicated task that requires his full, utmost attention, but making small-talk on the side is _definitely_ nerve-wracking. 

“Alright, going.”

Small-talk was never his thing, although the old woman living in apartment 304 doesn’t seem to mind his awkwardness – or, rather, she just never noticed his discomfort. Not to say that he doesn’t like her; she is sweet and often gives him snacks to thank him; but today, his ears crave silence.

(Like all too often, but that is something he has learned to deal with most of the time.)

He just needs to pick up the other set of apartment keys from his locale and he’ll be good to go, basic screwdrivers and extra door joints already stored in the tool pouch at his waist.

 

Apartment 605 is, as it was supposed to be according to the receptionist, empty when he reaches it. He confirms by knocking on the door exactly five times, not too strongly nor too weakly. He needs to be heard, but he doesn’t want it to sound too rough, either.

And since after an entire minute no one shows up, he takes it as his clue to start working on the door joint.

It isn’t long of a job, really. A couple minutes is all he needs to replace the metal frame and the screws, and then he’s done. Only the faint buzz of the neon tubes can be heard beside his fumbling with the screws and tools, and while it makes him yearn for complete, utter silence, it’s familiar and weak enough that it doesn’t bother him too much.

He stands up, wiping his pants to erase dust strikes on his knees, relieved from his awkward position on the ground, and presses the key of his walkie-talkie to advise the front desk of his completed task.

But then, from around the edge of the corridor appears a figure, one that he’s never seen around here before.  

He averts his eyes and makes his way past the other man – he’s young, chocolate hair, pouty lips –, carrying on as if he hadn’t seen him.

The stranger’s steps stop at some point; Kyungsoo’s now at the end of the corridor, just about to disappear behind the angle when his neck twists for him to be able to check the other out once more.

As he does so, the stranger unlocks the door to apartment 605, and enters.

Ah, so he’s the new tenant.

He’s, well, pretty cute.

Cute?

It’s a nice change from all the others – well, yes and no. While he tends to be an observer, he doesn’t look at people _that way_ very often.

So can it really be considered a nice change when no one’s really grabbed his attention like that before?

 

Kyungsoo’s never really been one for high focus tasks or, say, what people like to refer to as intellectual tasks.

He sure loves reading and watching movies, but his writing’s horribly messy and his written sentences, however how hard he tries, always come out punctuated with dumb mistakes and a stiff flow.

He was the quiet student, the one who doesn’t talk much but is nice enough that people aren’t completely put off by him; and yet some would think of him as a bright kid because of that calm disposure of his, only to then see his results in essays and look down on him instead. Oh, and he’d stutter all the time when delivering oral presentations.  

It was never easy for him to just sit and listen; and since the teachers would easily berate him during the very first years of school for continually shifting on his seat or tapping his pen on the wooden desk – and he absolutely hated the attention it’d bring upon him – he’d made it his challenge to keep his exterior calm, unmoving.

So it worked, to an extent, but instead he’d daydream all the time unless directly involved in the learning process, and that showed on his school reports.

At the very least, maths were a bit easier to get a grasp of; and while he didn’t ace any sport in particular in physical education, he was okay with it, especially since it meant he could spend some of his restless energy.

As he grew older, it became increasingly obvious to his parents that their second son would probably never reach university to complete a degree in accounting or medicine.

Considering Kyungsoo’s father own line of work, though, they couldn’t exactly complain openly about it or force something else on him: his father worked in a repair shop, and Kyungsoo actually showed great interest in learning manual tasks each time his father would bring home some things to work on, be it broken electrical appliances or toys.

Now he’s twenty-four years old, and his job, while he sometimes regrets not having something more, is enough to go by, especially as he only shares a two-bedroom flat with a friend from high school, Baekhyun. Saying he’s a maintenance man in an apartment building doesn’t always sound all that impressive to some, but as of now, he doesn’t mind.

Maybe that will change, one day, but until then there is no need to hate on himself for that, right?

Right.

 

“What do you mean, there’s another problem with apartment 605?”

Kyungsoo raises his eyes from his lunch, a very boring tomato sandwich with dried bread, to give Jeongsok, the head maintenance man around, a questioning look.

The latter sighs and shakes his head, putting his walkie-talkie back into the sheath at his belt. “Well, apparently, now it’s the door handle that’s faulty. Seriously, what happened there? The new guy must think we’re robbing him of his money or something for the rent he’s paying. There’s like, always a problem with something.”

He adds an intense eye roll to the tirade, and Kyungsoo just shrugs. “I can,” he swallows down a mouthful of his sandwich first, “I mean, I can go after my break’s over… I guess?” He enunciates the last bit with a low, gruff voice.

Jeongsok smiles at him amusedly. “Sure you can, now when will you stop being this awkward when we’ve known each other for so long?”

Kyungsoo just shrugs, averting his eyes to the table. He’s been working with Jeongsok for over a year now, but it doesn’t mean he’s quite there yet when it comes to being comfortable with him. He knows the older man, if anything, finds him funny, but while his palms aren’t as clammy as the first day they met, they still tremble and shiver each time the socialisation becomes too much.

He never knows how to think of himself, for he’s all too aware that others can observe him and analyse him and think he’s ridiculous for stuttering and avoiding Christmas parties and bar outings, and it just becomes so much at once sometimes that he wishes he didn’t have to interact with anyone at all.

But there he is anyway, and he can’t exactly shut himself away from the world in a dark room, so he needs to go on.

 

He ends up being the one who has to investigate the faulty door handle, and while a couple weeks have passed since his last repairing of apartment 605’s door joint, appears in his mind the picture of the pretty cute guy living there, and well. It stresses him a lot. He hopes, maybe a bit hopelessly so, that the stranger won’t be there since the receptionist couldn’t confirm the tenant’s presence to him beforehand.

But then he finds himself standing outside the apartment with the necessary set of keys and all the required tools, and his heart’s beating so _so_ fast, because he has to knock on the door and just a moment ago, he heard some rustling and moving around from behind it.

And yet, it’s his job, he has to notify the tenant of his presence and he needs to check both sides of the handle anyway.

It’s hard, excruciatingly so, to reach out so that his knuckles make contact with the hard surface of the door.

He just wants to go back to the break room, to their locale, to erase that suggestion of his to go there and take care of the repair, but then before he knows it he’s knocking, and soon enough the door opens on the chocolate haired boy, an easy, polite smile on his face.

“It’s, uh, for the door handle? What seems to be… wrong with it?”

He could’ve saluted the other properly, he could’ve asked him how he was; but instead he went straight to business, maybe, in a way, to avoid the awkwardness of small-talk.

The other doesn’t seem insulted, though, so that’s a good thing.

“Yup, well, it actually doesn’t even turn properly anymore, and yesterday this,” he hands out a small screw to Kyungsoo, who too readily takes it and almost drops it to the ground, “fell out, and to be honest there’s more chance I’ll destroy the thing if I try to do something about it myself. So I called?” He smiles apologetically, blissfully unaware of Kyungsoo’s intense anxiousness.

Somehow, it doesn’t bother him. If anything, it helps that the other isn’t pointing out his awkwardness.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll take a look, then…”

And so the other leaves the door wide open for him to be able to take care of the handle, and while he doesn’t insist too much to get a laugh from Kyungsoo, he talks to himself a whole lot while he cleans up his kitchen.

It’s funny, for he rambles about anything from his day at work in a retail store to this team project he has for a university course, and he swears a couple of times as he tries to bring some order back into the kitchen and wipes the counters. Kyungsoo’s lack of real answers doesn’t seem to faze or embarrass him in the slightest; all he needs, apparently, is a well-timed “hmm” or “ah” to carry on.

And while it’s difficult to recognise it, it does ease Kyungsoo’s stress a bit.

Before he knows it, he has changed the door handle and has left to go back to his locale, leaving behind the easygoing young man, named Kim Jongin, a big fan of “doggos”, greasy foods, and tenant of apartment 605.

 

Right after this meeting, the thank you notes begin appearing.

When Kyungsoo finishes his shift on that day, the janitor tells him that a note was left for him at the front desk. Kyungsoo worries a bit, scared that it isn’t something good, and is all the more befuddled when he gets his hands on a simple, small piece of folded paper.

He extends it between his fingers, careful not to pull too hard at the edges for he doesn’t want to rip it, only for his eyes to come across a few unexpected words.

_Thank you for the repair. :)_

His heart flutters the slightest bit. It isn’t technically signed with a name, but he has a pretty clear idea of who wrote that note, and it isn’t the old lady from apartment 304.

 

Following that, each time Kyungsoo completes a repair regarding apartment 605, he is assured to receive a little thank you note afterwards.

Funnily enough, there are quite a few repairs that need to be done in the apartment where the cute boy resides.

And, more often than not, it’s Kyungsoo who gets to take care of whatever problems there are.

So, truly, the thank you notes are an extra that he starts looking forward to, a token of gratitude that he can be happy is destined to him, and thus becomes something that makes his job a bit more personal and gives him a reason to believe he can maintain a link of sort with the other young man.

He isn’t particularly fond of the idea of entering someone’s personal space when they are not present, but it is his job, and of course, unless the tenants agree to it, he can’t just enter the apartment where repairs are needed.

Apparently, though, Jongin doesn’t mind the visits while he isn’t around, and the day after Kyungsoo fixes the leaking sink in the bathroom, he comes back to yet another thank you note on the kitchen counter, right beside the faulty socket that somehow doesn’t work again. (Kyungsoo isn’t an electrician per se, but he was asked to check if there was anything to be done about it.)

And on the little pink paper note with a cute smiley, there’s a candy. It’s just his luck, too, that it’s a flavour he fancies quite a lot.  

 

That evening, as he walks into his apartment to find his roommate, Baekhyun, on the couch and screaming profanities at the TV – he’s playing a game – , he somehow trips in the entryway and drops his bag to the floor.

Said bag spills most of its content as it wasn’t properly zipped – Kyungsoo might or might not have been quite lazy about it on the way back home – and all the noise is enough to get Baekhyun’s attention.

Before Kyungsoo can even bother to get up again, there are two feet in front of him, one wearing a holed sock and the other, completely naked. Again, typical Baekhyun who can’t bother to buy new socks or find the old ones once they are lost.

“Hey man, you alright?” His friend crouches down to help him gather his stuff and Kyungsoo simply sighs. “I just tripped. I’m okay.”

An amusing grin is all he gets. “This isn’t new from you, but still. Oh, hey, what’s this?”

The other young man brandishes a small piece of paper, incongruous amongst the wallet, money and keys for it is pink, and pink just isn’t something Kyungsoo possesses in any way or shape.

Kyungsoo sees it, and instantly, his eyes widen. It’s the note Jongin left with a candy. He took it without realising and somehow couldn’t find it in himself to throw it in the garbage can at work, and so it had ended in his bag.

But Baekhyun being Baekhyun, it’s already too much that he came upon it, and suddenly the maintenance man is regretting his carelessness.

“Nothing,” he says as he tries to reach for it, only for his roommate to raise suddenly and leave with it.

“It says _thank you_ ,” he starts and guffaws, “with a smiley. Ohhhhhh,” he beams, “I think I know what this is about. It’s the cute guy that left it for you, right? Right. I am _so_ right.”

One thing that annoys Kyungsoo greatly about Baekhyun is just this, his ability to see past Kyungsoo’s walls and get to the very core of his likes and dislikes.

He has only mentioned the “cute guy” once before, and he didn’t even use the word “cute”, but instantly Baekhyun had caught on and realised that for the very first time, Kyungsoo had a kind of a crush on a pure stranger.

Kyungsoo had felt cornered and had insisted that it was just him being grateful for all the little notes the tenant from apartment 605 left for him.

And that had, definitely, been too much information given away to someone who proclaimed himself a love expert.

“You should totally ask him out,” adds the evil being with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows. By then, though, Kyungsoo is up and very much able to punch him in the shoulder, and so he does just that.

Baekhyun howls and starts complaining and how much it hurts, and Kyungsoo snags the little note away, red creeping onto his cheeks.

There is no way in hell he is _ever_ going to ask Jongin out. He doesn’t know him, for one, and he doesn’t know _how_.

 

It is only logical that on the next day, he makes sure to avoid Jongin.

It usually isn’t very difficult for the other appears quite busy and is often away when Kyungsoo comes in or close to make repairs or touch-ups; but today he had heard rustling behind the apartment door, and so he keeps away from this section of the building, all too aware of the furious beating of his heart and the sweatiness of his palms.

Maybe, on another day, he could have dealt with this.

Maybe, on another day, he could have been okay, even, with the idea of sporting a crush or something like that on a perfect stranger.

But, obviously, today isn’t that day, and it’s rather a disconcerting mix of anxiety and frenzy that causes him to suck all the more at interactions and focusing on his tasks, bringing upon him the teasing of Jeongsok and unsolicited relationship advices from the old woman from apartment 304.

 

One night, a few days later, Kyungsoo dreams of Jongin for the first time.

He is but a stranger who Kyungsoo knows a few random things about, and his dreams express just that. While he goes on an adventure to escape from God-knows-what mixed with more realistic worries about money and (his lack of) relationships, he meets apartment 605’s tenant a few times along the way.

Each encounter brings them to exchange a bit, or they, simply, sit in silence in incongruous settings, but the biggest impression it leaves on Kyungsoo is one of warmth and closeness.

It’s not quite comfort for it isn’t true, it doesn’t exist anywhere else than in Kyungsoo’s mind, but it’s nice nonetheless, and a break from the rest of his otherwise agitated dreams.

When he wakes up, eyelashes sticky and mouth dry, the first thing he does is make his way to the kitchen to chug down a huge glass of water. He notices that one of Baekhyun’s pairs of shoes is still missing in the entryway; he works as a bartender and sometimes, he crashes over at someone else’s place, usually Chanyeol’s or Sehun’s, instead of commuting all the way back to the apartment after his night shift because, really, it’s not that close.

Kyungsoo doesn’t mind having the apartment all to himself, although it _can_ happen that he misses his roommate. It’s a wonder he can even live with someone as loud and touchy as Baekhyun; but then again, they have known each other for years already, and they have been friends not since the very beginning but for a long time.

He makes sure to take a look at the grocery list on the fridge – _almond milk, snack bars, chips and bananas_ – before grabbing his bus card in the small pot beside the entrance door, and then he’s out, dressed and ready for yet another shift at the apartment building.

 

The day is uneventful, although Baekhyun does text him in his break to complain about the fact that Chanyeol threw him out in the early morning air. Oh, and he isn’t working tonight, so he will order pizza for the both of them. 

Kyungsoo just rolls his eyes at his friend’s unhealthy yet demanding ways and only answers with “ok, all dressed without meat” before he carries on with his tasks.

His cellphone, at some points, beeps a few times in a row, and he checks on it before frowning and turning it off altogether.

Idiot B

_Oh and also_

_You should really really really_

_REALLY_

_Ask that cutie guy out_

_;D_

He doesn’t need that kind of harassment.

 

Kyungsoo is out in front of the building, his hours over and a hand on an unopened pack of cigarettes, when someone comes up from behind him and pats him on the shoulder.

He jumps, dropping the cigarettes as his grip on the pack slackens, and twists around only to come face-to-face with Jongin.

The latter bends down to retrieve his pack and hands it back to him, an apologetic smile on his face. His skin is caramel brown, slightly darker than Kyungsoo’s in a way that pleases him a lot, he notices.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he begins, readjusting the bag on his shoulder, “I didn’t see you were listening to music?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, gasping like a fish before he finds his words. He forgot he was wearing earbuds too, so he takes them out, and suddenly ambient noises are a lot clearer. “It’s okay, uh.” He doesn’t know what Jongin expected by coming up to him in such a natural fashion.

He has been avoiding him for days, what’s with Baekhyun insisting a whole lot on him asking the stranger out, but the other man can’t possibly be aware of that.

They have only met once; and Jongin writes him thank you notes each time he repairs something in his apartment; but they are not friends, and his hands are becoming wet already the more his chest muscles constrict.

Still, the other young man carries on as if everything in the world was well. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he offers, then, “I used to, but I stopped… I think it was two years ago?” He clears his throat, clearly holding back a shiver.

It’s summertime, and yet, it feels as if fall is already upon them, the wind fresh and unrepentant. Kyungsoo could attest to that, but he is feeling quite hot at the moment, and not in a good way. It’s not that he means for his stress to go up each time he has to socialise; it’s just particularly bad as of late and Jongin is someone he has had on his mind too often even though they are barely acquaintances.

“I, uh,” he stammers, wills the words out, “I stopped, I just… Jeongsok, he, well he works with me, he gave that to me. I don’t know… what to do with it.”

He knows why, though. Jeongsok had said that while it was bad for his health, it clearly had the power to soothe him, and had proceeded to push the pack in his dust covered hands before he could even wash them.

Kyungsoo appreciates the intent, but he has stopped about six months ago, and doesn’t intend on getting back into such old habits again.

“Ah, I see,” Jongin nods approvingly, wincing a bit as he seemingly recalls his own addiction. “It was hard to stop, but I’m glad I did. Are you going to keep it?” He points to the pack in Kyungsoo’s hand, and Kyungsoo bites his lower lip. “I don’t think so…”

While he doesn’t want the negative impacts on his health, he does want something, anything to relax and _let go a little bit_.

Jongin snorts. “You don’t look sure, maybe you should keep it away before it gets back at you.” There’s no real mockery in his tone, just a warmth that Kyungsoo wants to interpret as concern, or something.

A part of his brain is going crazy at the possibility that Jongin might be a nice guy and, oh, maybe Kyungsoo _could_ ask him out, really, maybe it would be worth it – but oh my, just shut up.

“That’s what I was thinking,” he murmurs. It’s not that he wants to reject all of Jeongsok’s good intentions toward him, but maybe it would be better for him to find other ways through which to channel his anxiety.

Baekhyun will definitely complain if he starts smoking again.

It then becomes quiet for a minute or two as they both contemplate the parking lot in front of them, maybe uncertain as to whether or not they should bring the conversation forward.

Kyungsoo won’t be the one to do it, probably.

Jongin eventually takes a look at his cellphone before putting it back in the pack pocket of his pants. He is pouting. “I need to go grocery shopping.” And clearly, it sounds like a hassle to him. Kyungsoo doesn’t mind grocery shopping; if anything, he likes cooking, he just hates the social context in which he has to throw himself each time he goes out. “I’ll go now. But hey, see you around?”

Something happens, something that Kyungsoo didn’t plan on doing, and yet still does. It’s probably Baekhyun’s fault. No, scratch that, it’s _definitely_ his fault. “I, uh, I need to go grocery shopping too,” he says, before he blanks out.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck – why did I say that?_

Jongin tilts his head, then. “Where do you usually go?”

Air isn’t coming in fast enough, or, rather, it’s coming in so fast that he can’t breathe properly, and soon, his brain will shut down. Right. It feels horrible and exhilarating all at once, because one instant he is convinced he just humiliated himself and wants to hide forever, and the next, a lifeline is thrown at him.

“I go to the market at the end of the road about, uh, three blocks away?” While it’s not the closest grocery shop to his own apartment, it’s on the way when he comes back from work, just like now.

“I go there too,” says Jongin, his tone resolute. He’s cute, really. “Let’s go together?”

Everything in Kyungsoo screams _no, no, no, I don’t want to, it’s too hard, it’s too much, I don’t want to act this close to Jongin, I’m not asking him out, but_ – but his heart decides otherwise and he agrees.

 

The walk to the grocery store is, in Kyungsoo’s opinion, quite awkward.

Quite awkward, for he keeps on stumbling on his words, keeps on spacing out, keeps on regretting his decision to go with the other.

It’s impossible for Jongin to miss his unease, and so he does try to pinpoint the source of it without being too rude toward Kyungsoo. He asks question, asks him if he’s okay, if he prefers to go alone.

But, it comes as no surprise that Kyungsoo doesn’t explain anything, avoids most of the young man’s questions, and just focuses on reassuring the other and on keeping the air coming in, and going out.

Eventually, Jongin relents, and even apologises upon realising that he insisted too much for the past minutes.

Kyungsoo doesn’t hold it against him, can’t, even.

Jongin’s cute, and unless Kyungsoo is reading him completely wrong, it’s almost rare to meet someone whose curiosity and associated guilt are that genuine.

 

Once they reach the small supermarket, Kyungsoo is all too grateful for the almost vacant rows.

It means that while he doesn’t enjoy, after a day at work, all the bright lights and the useless air conditioning (it’s not even hot outside), he can actually welcomes the distraction that is food.

Ingredients need to be bought and so he takes out his list from his bag, and Jongin whines. “I think I just. I didn’t even make a list. What is adulting again?”

It causes Kyungsoo to giggle the slightest bit, and he clears his throat right after, his ears flushing. “Any idea of… well, of what you’d like to make?”

Jongin looks at him, at the fried chicken stand at the end of the corridor, and at Kyungsoo again. Then, he shrugs, an adorable grimace on his face. “To be honest, I tend to rely a lot on premade food? And chicken.”

Right. Okay. Kyungsoo is torn between tenderness and freaking out right now. “Let’s, let’s go around and I’ll try to help you. I mean – I cook a lot, so…” He doesn’t want to show off, not at all, but he might as well offer his help since he is usually pretty efficient at grocery shopping and coming up with meal ideas.

Jongin appears relieved. “I’ll take all the help I can get. My fridge’s literally empty at the moment.” He proceeds to laugh with something akin to embarrassment tinting his voice, and Kyungsoo swears he could just melt on the spot.  

His breathing is not exactly fine, but it’s better than when they were outside and nothing else could keep his mind busy.

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

Jongin, as Kyungsoo learns, has cooked rice about once or twice in his entire life.

But, fortunately, he has a rice cooker, so things shouldn’t go too wrong should he try to make a full meal. (How Kyungsoo wished he had one of these handy machines, ah.)

So Kyungsoo suggests him rice, peppers, chicken, and many other things that are quite easy to cook – and he also breaks down some easy recipes for the other young man, so that way, he will know which spices to buy and all that jazz.

Apparently, a good part of Jongin’s diet consists of eating out and frozen, premade meals such as pizza and ramyun.

So it might seem stupid, but in the end, the maintenance man is very happy that he gets to help apartment 605’s tenant with his grocery shopping.

As for himself, he adds to the bananas, almond milk, chips and snack bars, some berries, onions and cookies. (Because sometimes, he craves for some.)

They part ways just outside the supermarket’s main entrance, Jongin offering a grateful wave of the hand to Kyungsoo before he walks away in the opposite direction.

And while he doesn’t feel like admitting it, he feels all kinds of fuzzy and weird and happy inside, for maybe, on one hand, that this experience was hard on his mental state, but on the other hand, it was just great to hang out with someone and enjoy it, even for a bit.

It’s now dark outside, but it won’t be long before he reaches his apartment.

He can’t wait for the moment he will get into bed.

 

The smell of greasy, cheesy pizza hits his nostrils strong as soon as he so much as opens the front door. He winces; his stomach grumbles and all the while, he’s pretty sure it’s the kind of pizza that will give him a terrible stomach ache later in the night.

Baekhyun’s head appears from behind the couch. “What were you doing? You finished like, more than an hour ago.”

Kyungsoo lifts his single grocery bag. Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “You _never_ take that long.” Right. It should come as no surprise that Baekhyun is instantly on his case; he notices everything and he definitely is aware that Kyungsoo’s omitting to mention a certain someone.

He discards his shoes and makes his way to the kitchen section (kitchenette, really) and begins to put away the different food items he bought. It’s not that he likes to keep secrets, nor it is that he wants to push Baekhyun away, but…

He kind of just took a first step toward Jongin, and now, he’s freaking out. He can’t even fathom the idea that the other man just went along with his indirect suggestion of going together to the supermarket, but he did anyway, and somehow it feels like he has just crossed something big.  

His hands are trembling as he tries to keep them busy, before, eventually, Baekhyun’s shoulder bumps into his. “Come on, what is it?”

His tone is light, but Kyungsoo has a feeling the older man is worried about him.

So, with his neck flushing and his lips wobbling, he pushes the words out, embarrassment creeping up in his voice. “I, uh, I helped someone with their groceries?”

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at him. “Really, now? Who?”

Kyungsoo stutters. “J-Jongin?”

And there it is, that evil gleam in Baekhyun’s eyes as understanding dawns upon him. “Ohhh. So this is what it is about. I see.”

Kyungsoo hits him, pushes him away. “Shut up, okay? I didn’t – I just helped him, because he seemed like he needed it, and –”

“And he’s the cute guy who’s leaving you cheesy thank you notes and that you want to ask out, yes.”

“I don’t want to ask him out, I mean, it doesn’t count as such either –”

“Yes Kyungsoo, yes.” He pats him on the head, clearly entertained by his anxious roommate’s struggles. “You should totally ask him out. For real. It sounds to me like you have a real chance and for once that you think someone’s cute –”

Kyungsoo groans. Right. No. He can’t. “Stop it, Baekhyun,” is all he says as he stuffs a still wrapped snack bar in the other’s mouth.

 

It is well into the night, and Kyungsoo can’t sleep.

It is well into the night, and Kyungsoo has to sleep, because he is working tomorrow.

He keeps on tossing and turning around in his bed as the walls of his cramped bedroom force him into a claustrophobic trance, acid reflux burning his insides all the way up to the back of his mouth and cold sweats assailing his back as he tries to attain some peace of mind.

His breathing is uneven, noisy yet oh so superficial, and he can’t find it in himself to move or call Baekhyun because he knows he isn’t dying, he knows he isn’t, and yet.

And yet, he feels terrible and ridiculous for it all at once, unable to stop the frenetic cycling of his thoughts. His body is but a horrible, uncomfortable physical envelop in which he doesn’t fit, from which he wishes to escape just for a moment, just to give his mind the time to cool down, _something, anything_ to feel better.

Everything from Jongin to his parents’ expectations to his self-hatred, unanswered questions and haunting memories – it is all good enough to keep his brain going wild, and in the night, it is all the worse for he is tired, drained, and it causes thoughts to play repetitively, it causes scenes to appear again and again, and he can’t stop it. Even fragments of songs he likes can be stuck in his head and make him go as crazy as everything else, and in the end, he feels like puking.

So eventually he sits up in bed, his vision blurry as much because of his severe astigmatism as a lack of oxygen, and he turns on the lamp on the bedside table.

Then, he picks up a random book on the floor, and tries to read it.

He can’t make much sense of the words before his eyes, even as he puts on his glasses, but he tries, he tries because anything that can carry his mind away for a bit will be enough.

He knows he has a problem. He knows it’s becoming worse each year.

And yet, it is nothing really new, nothing he believes he can do much about.

 

Hours later, he falls asleep.

It’s a good thing it doesn’t happen all the time. Often, instead, he falls like a rock as soon as his head hits the pillow. It’s just that he wakes up tired anyway.

He thinks of Jongin, of their grocery trip, and wonders if there is anything in there for him, anything that could explain why it feels different with the stranger.

(Albeit, granted, he isn’t a stranger per se anymore, but they are _still_ barely acquaintances.)

It’s something about the atmosphere, about Jongin’s looks, sure, but mostly about what emanates off him. He seems easygoing, honest, and like he doesn’t care that Kyungsoo stutters and stumbles on his words each time he vocalises a sentence.

He hopes he isn’t wrong about apartment 605’s young tenant.

He doesn’t want to end up alone, forever; he wants a chance, too.

 

Two weeks later, and Kyungsoo thinks he is going to _do it_.

He is definitely crazy because he hasn’t seen the young man in more than a week, and yet there he is, not really knowing why, inside his apartment for a repair on the bathroom door, a pen in his unsteady right hand as he stares holes into the pink piece of paper on the vanity top.

(Really, now, how can this place be in such a state? Just how many repairs has he done since Jongin moved in? How many more is he going to take care of?)

Because, yes, Jongin left a thank you note in anticipation of the repair Kyungsoo would perform in the bathroom.

_Thank you a lot for repairing my door :D Also, thank you for last time. I didn’t burn the chicken._

How can someone be that cute?

No one should be able to make his heart beat that fast – beside anxiety and panic attacks.

Although, sure, he prefers when his heart beats fast because of Jongin than because of his unstable brain. Or whatever is the source of all of this.

In a way, it isn’t familiar, it isn’t something he can control either, but there’s something fundamentally better about this specific kind of nerve-wracking impression.

And, well. There he is, just about to write something back on the space left on the small piece of paper. 

It’s the only time he will listen to Baekhyun, really.

His front teeth find his lower lip as he starts scribbling down a few words, enough to form a sentence and, beside it, a few numbers.

Ah, what the fuck, seriously.

_I’m glad I could help. XXXX-XXX-XXXX_

He doesn’t add anything else. He just wrote his fucking phone number; it’s pretty clear what one can do with it, right?

Kyungsoo wants to crawl into a hole and forget he just did _That_. It feels so dumb, so smug to do this, and yet Kyungsoo is everything, anything but this way.

So he carries on with the repair and flees right after, before he can rip the piece of paper into unreadable shreds or come across Jongin. He doesn’t think he can handle any of this at the moment.

And now all he can do is hope for the best, which could mean either Jongin not calling him back but not acting weird with him, or Jongin calling him and, well.

Maybe they could, uh, meet up again. For groceries? Or something. Right. He will have to come up with something.

 

The rest of the day flies by in no time, a blur from which Kyungsoo can't escape.

In a way, he doesn't mind that, doesn't mind the lack of contact with reality as he goes through different tasks and repairs and touch-ups; but by the end of his shift, he is more than just jittery; he is downright freaking out.

While Baekhyun would probably judge his small message to Jongin as lacking clarity and straightforwardness, he still asked the other young man out, and that - _that_ he can't change anything about right now, even as he is beginning to regret it more and more.

He doesn't know what will happen and can't anticipate it, can't wrap his head around it and the fact that he finally made a move. He fucking made. A move. Toward Jongin, with whom he has talked a few times and went grocery shopping with once.

What if he read the other wrong all this time? What if he is just being used? (What would he even use Kyungsoo for, though?) What if everything goes wrong after that, because they realise they actually really don't like each other? Or something?

Just about anything could happen. And Kyungsoo certainly doesn’t have the strength to believe someone would find him entertaining or attractive.

He doesn't remember the walk home, doesn't remember putting his earbuds in his ears and pressing play on his old iPod for the music to begin, doesn't remember walking up the stairs to his and Baekhyun's shared apartment.

He is standing in front of the sink when he comes back to himself, completely lost as to what he was about to do. Was it dinner? Or was it throwing the trash out?

He turns around, glances at the empty living room. His roommate is not even here tonight, and won’t be back until tomorrow, and so he finds himself alone with his thoughts.

That is pretty bad.

Maybe he should just wash the dishes, or something. After all, Baekhyun’s numerous cereals bowls are piling up on the kitchen counter beside the sink.

And so he settles for that. It’s simple, pragmatic, something that doesn’t involve further reflecting over complicated stuff but can keep him busy enough that he doesn’t stress even more. It’s enough as it is.

He puts on gloves, turns on the faucet for hot water, adds in a little bit of soap, and begins to scrub away at the dirty bowls and spoons. He has bothered Baekhyun many times as to actually try to cook and eat, but the older man still prefers simple over healthy. Not that simple can’t be healthy; it’s just that Baekhyun always, without a fault, turns to cereals, be it for breakfast, for lunch or for dinner.

A faint buzz starts resounding, muffled so well by the noise of the dishes and bubbles popping that Kyungsoo is almost convinced it’s tinnitus again. He realises belatedly, though, that something is vibrating against his thigh. Right, okay, that’s not tinnitus, that’s just his cellphone that he loathes to put sound on.

Wait. His cellphone.

His cellphone is vibrating. That means someone is probably calling him right now, but Baekhyun is working, and, well, Kyungsoo doesn’t exactly get many calls from many people.

Shit. Fuck. Could it be Jongin?

He swallows around the heavy lump in his throat that’s suddenly grown tenfold, and, clumsily, takes off a rubber glove to fish his cellphone out of his pocket.

It says, _unknown_ , and he has never seen the number before.

His heart is beating so fast he swears he can feel it thrumming in his fingers and he hates it, hates the instant dizziness, hates the unsteadiness of his hand as he finally presses _answer_.

His voice is gruff and croaky as he speaks out. “Uh, hello?”

There is a bit of rustling on the other end, breathing. “Kyungsoo? Hey, it’s Jongin.”

Yeah, okay, right. It’s really him.

“Uh, hey,” he begins, painfully. Silence ensues.

It is faint, but he hears the other clearing his throat. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me. Soon. Somewhere else than the grocery store preferably, though I wouldn’t mind getting some more help.”

It is meant to be light, and so Kyungsoo tries to take it that way. To not overthink everything he just heard, to not question everything he might say.

“I, that would be nice. I mean – going out. With you. Yeah.”

Jongin chuckles warmly on the other end, and Kyungsoo almost drops the phone into the soapy water below, his grip shaky. Is he going to die? He is definitely going to die. And he can’t afford a new cellphone anytime soon, so he better not let if fall into the _effing_ water.

“I was thinking, maybe someplace like the theater? I, well, I noticed you had a Star Wars keychain, and, well, there’s the new one that just came out –”

He noticed that from last time? It’s almost… sweet. Or something.

“Y-yeah, okay, let’s go to the. Theater. Yeah.” He is well aware of how stiff he is at the moment, but as long as he manages to force the words out, things should go alright. Jongin has yet to comment on that, and if it really put him off, he wouldn’t have tried to call Kyungsoo, right?

“Alright. Are you free on Tuesday? I mean, I know it’s a weird day, but there’s a discount for university students and even regular customers on that day, so –”

Kyungsoo finds himself nodding sharply even though no one is around to see. “Yes. Right. Perfect. What time?”

“I’ll text you the time, just need to check the schedule.”

He breathes in, and out. “Alright. Okay. I will be waiting?” It sounds stupid. He sounds stupid.

He doesn’t know what to add. At all. So Jongin takes care of the rest for him.

“Okay. Have a nice evening, I’ll text you. See you soon.”

He has that thought, then, or rather picture of the other smiling, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

For a first real crush, Jongin is a blessing sent from who-knows-where to Kyungsoo, and he is thankful for it for he knows it could have gone a lot worse.

 

The D-Day approaches, and Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to do, or rather, how to prepare.

And, unfortunately for him, asking Baekhyun for advice implies telling him about his date of sorts, for the _why_ to the type of help he needs cannot go unnoticed by the bartender.

At first, Kyungsoo panics, locks himself up in his room as he deeply regrets uttering a word or two about the situation with Jongin to his roommate, until the latter manages to soothe him, to calm him down a bit with a voice softer than usual and words not so carelessly thrown around, and only then Kyungsoo comes out and dares to give the other a more complete description of the matter at hand.

And, well, Baekhyun is all too happy to help. Thus days before Tuesday, Kyungsoo’s outfit has already been chosen and put together by the bartender; they have planned together which bus and when he will take it; and finally, Baekhyun reassures him on the fact that if Jongin didn’t want him around, he wouldn’t have asked him out to the theater.

This about sums it up.

Now, Kyungsoo is standing in front of the chosen theater, well in advance as he didn’t dare to push his luck and take a later bus, and he keeps on shifting, and readjusting his jeans jacket too, playing with the keychains attached to his wallet and such.

He can’t help it. He needs the distractions, all of them, or he is going to become crazy. It has been a while since he went out in a very much public place alone, and so his anxiety levels are high, soaring up to the sky with each passing minute. Too many people.

After what seems like an eternity to him, a familiar shape finally appears and makes its way to him through the ever moving crowd.

Relief floods him almost instantly, because while he is far from being out of the woods yet, he is oh so very happy to see Jongin, grinning at him like a cute fool. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t make you wait too long?”

He shakes his head. “N-no, really, I haven’t been here long. Are we going inside?”

Jongin nods readily and while he doesn’t grab Kyungsoo by the arm to bring him along, he keeps close, close enough that he knows they are going together, but far enough that his personal space isn’t violated in any way. He doesn’t know if it’s intentional from Jongin, but he appreciates it.

They pay for their tickets, make the line to buy food and drinks (popcorn for Jongin, nachos for himself), and once all of this is done, they make their way to the assigned movie room.

Of course, Kyungsoo has to excuse himself to go to the restroom, do his business, and then he washes his hands carefully, twice in a row, with hot water. It might seem small and stupid, but it somehow relieves a bit of the tension in his shoulders and then, he feels ready to walk back to the movie room and, more precisely, to the seat beside Jongin’s.

“Are you okay?” Asks the cute guy, his mouth full of popcorn. It makes Kyungsoo snorts as he tries to hold back a laugh. Not the prettiest sight, but there is something adorable and funny about it as well. “I’m fine.” Jongin nods and proceeds to move his legs so that Kyungsoo can reach his own chair.

A sigh of alleviation escapes him as he sits down and sinks into not-so-plush cushion. He closes his eyes for a short instant, imagines that the dimly lit room is quiet while it isn’t, and then focuses back on the real world.

Jongin does most of the talking, and Kyungsoo has to lean in and listen carefully more than once because the other is trying not to disturb everyone else around. Kyungsoo thinks he shouldn’t have to be that cautious since the actual movie hasn’t started yet, but he says nothing.

Chatting with, or just listening to Jongin is easy, he notices. Nonchalant.

That is something he can revel in.

 

The movie is fun, a lot of explosions and missiles and aliens and awesome spacecrafts and all that usual jazz, but they are only half into it when Kyungsoo begins to notice, or rather feel the signs of a pending, unavoidable attack.

Anxiety crisis, panic attack – he isn’t actually sure which one it would fit into, if it corresponds to one of these to begin with. All he knows is that it is pretty damn horrible, and it will most probably leave him drained by the end of it.  

He turns his head toward Jongin, a quick glance, truly, to assess that the younger is still immersed in the on-screen action.

He tries, almost desperately, to get back into it too, to erase his own mind and worries and cycling thoughts and replace them with that of the numerous characters’, but he can’t.

He can’t, and it is all the more distressing for he doesn’t want his evening with Jongin, sweet Jongin, to be spoiled in _such a way_.

And so he breathes slowly, exhales carefully, in, and out, and in, and out, in through his nose, out through his mouth.

His vision wavers as his chest starts constricting and cramping in painful ways, and his hands are tight fists on his knees as he tries to keep the trembling to a minimum.

Breathing burns the more he slides into the pit, that prison with these high muddy walls that offer no grip, and as a result his eyes fill with salt water.

He knows what might have triggered this, and yet, he will never have an official, written confirmation of it. It could be too many people to deal with in close proximity, loud noises from the movie and just lighter sounds from the other human beings around, him trying to keep a happy, somewhat (not really) conversational façade up so that Jongin doesn’t become fazed, etc. etc. etc.

This enumeration could go on for hours. So maybe enumerating the possible causes of whatever extremely disagreeable affliction this is, is useless, and he should, rather, focuses on cooling his mind down.

Right.

So he tries that. He tries just that. But before he knows it, he loses contact with the real world for a few seconds and wakes up with tight, tense limbs, his face in his hands as his shoulders raise and fall in an erratic rhythm. He isn’t crying, but then, by Jongin’s worried voice next to his ear, he certainly must look like he is.

“Kyungsoo? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t find the words to describe _what’s wrong_ per se. And it is rather difficult to talk at the moment.

He manages to notice some people who twist, crane their necks around in their seats to watch, to try to make sense of what is happening, and he feels his insides shrivel up further.

Jongin, somehow, seems to take notice of that and, an arm around his shoulder, helps him up and out of his seat, then out of the movie room.

It feels incredibly weird to be “handled” in such a way, to be, well, taken care of.

Jongin brings him out of the theater and to the side. No one else is close enough to hear them, and he invites Kyungsoo to sit on the ground. He doesn’t add anything, just stays beside, and it just…

It’s just what he wanted, Kyungsoo realises.

He doesn’t need more. He doesn’t need to talk. He just needs the calm, cool air and a friend, a romantic interest, a human presence, whatever really, beside him as he tries to land back on Earth.

His chest hurts, his stomach is still twisting in all sorts of ways, but eventually he finds the courage to gather some words.

“I’m sorry.” It sounds terrible, dry and forced and painful.

His cheeks are drying, he observes. That means tears were spilled. He, ah, didn’t mean to react in such a way. Didn’t mean to make a big case of sitting in a theater room.

Beside him, Jongin leans back on the sidewalk, shrugging. “It’s alright,” he begins, his voice soft like he doesn’t want to startle the other. “I was just worried you were like, I don’t know, having a heart attack or something. But then I guess it makes a lot more sense like that.” He makes a vague move with his hand.

Kyungsoo turns to him, then, curious. Curious, and eager to change his mind. “What do you mean?”

Jongin smiles sheepishly. “I don’t mean to point out the obvious, like, obvious, but you are not exactly a zen guy, though you seemed like it at first. I’m sorry, I… should have thought about it when inviting you here, I don’t know.” He then gestures at the movie posters behind them.

Kyungsoo shakes his head. He isn’t quite back yet, but it is getting better. He is definitely glad of one thing: it was a short attack, nothing like some he has had before that could go on for hours whatever he tried.

He feels drained, disconnected, absent, but there is also a weird contentment inside of him, the kind of tiredness that he knows will bring him straight to sleep once he gets back home.

“It’s not like you could know, I guess.” He knows he sounds quite apathetic, but he can’t help it.

Jongin sighs exaggeratingly. “No, _that’s_ the thing,” he croaks out somewhat pitifully. “I was medicated for mental stuff until last year, and my _own_ sister has had pretty bad panic attacks in the past. I mean, I’m just stupid, seriously.” He is clearly frustrated by this, but it’s somehow… adorable.

“It’s alright. I really think it is.” He is being honest.  

Kyungsoo doesn’t lift his eyes from the cigarette butt on the ground before him, but still his hand reaches out to pat Jongin’s thigh. It’s weird, touching someone else is weird.

He can feel his warmth, and it makes his heart flutter.

Jongin sighs, but then his tone becomes happier. “Let’s leave now. I’ll bring you back to your place.”

Kyungsoo bites his lower lip, uncertain. “No.”

“What? You want to go back to the movie?” Jongin is clearly is confused.

Okay, lack of explanation. “I mean... maybe you could show me your place?”

Jongin begins to laugh in earnest beside him. “You know where I live, Kyungsoo, and you definitely know what it looks like inside. You sure you want to go in to work at such a time?”

He offers the other a small but very genuine smile. “Maybe. Let’s go.”

 

He isn’t quite okay yet and his mind is mostly empty and for these reasons, he doesn’t really talk on the transit back to Jongin’s apartment.

The other doesn’t seem too bothered by it; if anything, he still seems to be at ease making most of the chatting, and he even shows Kyungsoo pictures of cute puppies (“doggos”, again, apparently), that is until Kyungsoo teases him about the lack of cats.

His limbs are slow, filled with lead, and thus he takes his time in climbing up the stairs to Jongin’s apartment. (The lift is out of service for now and has actually been that way for a few weeks.) It’s almost humorous at this point to be here, but he lets himself stay in his little bubble as they roam the corridor until they reach apartment 605 because, well, he doesn’t want to have another breakdown just because he has the impression he is going in to work.

Jongin is nice. Caring. Way too much. He invites Kyungsoo in, puts aside his jacket and bag for him, and then brings him to the small living room and makes him sit down on the cozy couch as he suggests they watch a series or something uneventful on Netflix (because, that’s all he has, but in the stressed out man’s opinion, this is far more than enough).

Kyungsoo takes interest in the controller and settles for a veterinary show about bioengineered implants and lowers the volume so it melts comfortably into the background. Before he knows it, a cup of warm tea is placed in his hands as Jongin sits beside him with his own. “It’s rooibos, decaffeinated. Figured it would be preferable over coffee”.

Kyungsoo rather likes coffee, but in this case, he has to agree that tea is better, especially if it doesn’t contain any stimulant. The leaves are pretty, black and orange and blue and brown, and taint the scalding water in his small cup with bursts of ochre. It smells earthy and yet citrusy, light enough that he knows it won’t leave an annoying taste on the back of his tongue once he takes his first sip.

“Thank you.” It’s heartfelt, nothing short of genuine; there is something immensely soothing about being able to cradle a cup of warm tea between his cold, still trembling hands as his shoulders sag.

Beside him, Jongin huffs. “You’re welcome.”

The next minutes are spent in quietude, and Kungsoo’s ears welcome that readily.

Once he feels ready, he opens his mouth anew.

“What do you study in?”

It is random, but that is what first came to his mind. He is curious about the other and now that he is calmer, he might as well use that opportunity to get to know the other better.

Jongin, though, looks surprised. “Uh, well, I was in business and stuff,” very clear, Jongin, yes, “but I’m switching to… well, I haven’t decided yet, but that’s why right now I only have two classes to attend to at the university, and I’m working.” He nods. Kyungsoo nods, too, his eyebrows raised.

“Where do you work?” Jongin grimaces. “Retail store in the city center, we sell clothing and accessories made locally. But, well, the boss’ been driving me crazy, so I’m thinking of changing. Maybe for a café, or something… I know what you do here, obviously, but anything beside that?”

The maintenance man has to consider his answer for a moment. “I think I’d like to sign up for training courses, to, uh, further my… studies. So that I can be paid more. Beside that I just… play video games and stuff?”

Instantly, Jongin latches onto the last detail. “What do you play? Because,” he gets up, begins to go through different drawers under the TV that all, apparently, contain different games, “I have a lot.”

Kyungsoo smiles then, and smiles the rest of the evening because - it’s easy. Conversing with Jongin is easy, and comforting, and it is a nice change in his life from all the awkward tries at making new friends or lovers he has made in the past years that have miserably failed.

 

So they don’t really play any video game on that night because it’s getting late and Kyungsoo eventually feels the pull that tells him to go back to his own apartment, but they share some more things about each other over video game boxes and half empty cups of decaffeinated rooibos tea, and it leaves the both of them sated and happy.

Of course, when Kyungsoo comes back home, Baekhyun isn’t there, and it gives him the opportunity to shower promptly and find his blankets as he tries to reorganise his thoughts on the evening he just spent with the cute university guy.  

He has never been one for “modern dating”, but somehow, and maybe it’s because of Jongin’s casualness, something seems to work, to click between the two of them.

Well, either that, or he’s completely delusional and reading all the cues and signs wrong - it wouldn’t be anything new. (But hopefully, this is just his anxiety speaking, and it is truly going in the right direction.)

He sleeps pretty fitfully that night, unbothered by the temperature changes and the sounds of the neighborhood to the point where he doesn’t even wake up when a tipsy Baekhyun face-plants dramatically in the entrance hallway – as he learns the next morning.

 

“So, so – how did it go?” Baekhyun’s tired grin is mischievous as he sits behind the kitchen island where Kyungsoo is busy preparing his lunch.

It’s early. Way too early for Baekhyun to be up. He must have been too eager to know about Kyungsoo’s “date”.

He clears his throat, frowning. “You should still be sleeping.”

The red haired man rolls his eyes, sighing exaggeratingly. “Oh, come on, I helped you with the outfit, the planning, like basically everything. The least you could do is tell me how it went.”

Right. It went pretty good, aside from his severe bout of anxiety at the theater.

Kyungsoo chews on the inside of his cheek, hard, pondering on what to say and what to keep locked up inside. It’s not quite that he wants to keep everything he does with Jongin a secret; he just still feels unsure as to whether or not he has the right to be happy about it already. “It was nice. We talked. About stuff.”

Baekhyun giggles from his seat. He smells of alcohol. The possibility that he is still fighting off the effects of booze is pretty high. He doesn’t get drunk often, but sometimes, as a bartender, he accepts quite a few shots. “So I take it went pretty well.” Satisfaction oozes from his confident tone and Kyungsoo, in spite of himself, flushes. “Whatever, I need to go.”

He isn’t lying about being late; as of now even if he walks quickly, it will be ten minutes too many. But, mostly, it’s one way to escape his roommate’s interrogation.

 

In the following days, Kyungsoo doesn’t get a glimpse of Jongin, not even once.

It’s almost upsetting, in a way, for he was looking forward to greet apartment 605’s tenant again. Maybe, they could have, well, agreed to meet up again, or maybe they could have had a quick chat about easy things in the corridor as Kyungsoo passed by the other’s place.

He can’t help the deception that weighs him down after one day too many; he had enjoyed so much to be able to learn new little things about the other that he thought maybe they could be friends, and then something more.

But no news, no demands from apartment 605, nothing.

 

He is sulking in the break room with a half-eaten pizza slice next to him when his cellphone begins to vibrate on the desk. He jumps, nearly spills his bottle of water and deactivates the buzz before he finally can take a look at what popped on his screen.

As he does, he swallows down a too big mouthful of water, and chokes. It’s Jongin.

Jongin, and it’s not a text; he’s _calling_. Shit. Okay. Wow, calm down, Kyungsoo, calm down.

He presses the screen, brings the device to his left ear, still in the process of trying to clear his now itchy throat. “H-Hello?”

“Hey, Soo? It’s Jongin.”

Right. Kyungsoo is dead. Beeeeeeeep.

Jongin just called him “Soo”, as in, the nickname only close family members and some friends use with him. Is it a good thing? Is it an omen, or something?

Oh wow, okay. “U-uh, h-h-hi.” Well. That went smooth.

On the other end, Jongin laughs. “Sorry, seems like I surprised you. I, uh, I had to go back home to take care of some stuff, but I’m coming back tomorrow, and I thought, you know, maybe we could meet to play some video games and eat in a couple days?”

Straight to the point; pure relief for poor, confused Kyungsoo.

“Uh, yes, sure, I’d like that.” Almost instantly, his voice is stronger, his words, less of a wobbly mess. Jongin knows what he wants, and that’s something that is extremely helpful at the moment because Kyungsoo doesn’t have to guess if the other wants to see him again or not; Jongin just _asked_.

“Maybe Thursday night?” Kyungsoo raises his eyes to the ceiling, visualizes his schedule and other random responsibilities that might already be in need of attention on that particular day, and finds none.

“Yeah, Thursday night sounds good. I could show up at… 6, approximately?”

He can imagine Jongin’s dazzling smile as he answers. “Perfect, see you then.”

He hangs up, and Kyungsoo finds himself alone, his heart beating all too loudly in his ears and the corners of his lips curling up.

Seems like he has another date, or whatever these are.

 

Kyungsoo does tell Baekhyun that he is supposed to meet Jongin again: he just doesn’t tell him when, precisely, because he wants to avoid the usual commotion that will surround the announcement of it.

If anything, he thinks to himself, the bartender will know anyway how it goes in the end because chances are Kyungsoo won’t be able to keep a straight face after he comes back from the other’s place.

He will either be grumpy, or, uh, something along the lines of ecstatic and bubbly.

It means, though, that he doesn’t find it in himself to dress in anything else than comfortable black clothes. It doesn’t make him feel extremely self-conscious but he is still aware of it, aware that Jongin could take notice of that and think that Kyungsoo doesn’t really take care of his appearance. (Which, well, to an extent, is true, but he’s clean, so that’s all that matters, no?)

But. But, while Jongin dresses nicely on some days, Kyungsoo has also witnessed him with flip-flops and ugly surfing shorts, so maybe he should just stop overthinking everything and go along with what feels the most comfortable.

Again, it is incredibly weird to walk to the building where he works after he went home and showered, climb up the stairs to the sixth floor, and knock on apartment 605 door. It almost feels surreal, as if he is going to ask Jongin what needs to be repaired again.

They had agreed, later in the week and through texts, to meet at Jongin’s place once more. Kyungsoo couldn’t afford, not yet, to present Jongin to Baekhyun, and it just so happened that Baekhyun, albeit working that night, had told Kyungsoo that he was planning on bringing Chanyeol and Sehun to their apartment after the shift. Better to stay away from all the action.

Jongin opens just as he cards his hand through his hair yet another time, worried that it is a mess. “Hey.” He sees comfy clothes, naked feet, and unruly brown hair; alright, Kyungsoo definitely fits the concept of an easy evening with his own equally laid back clothes.

“Hey. I, uh, I brought some stuff.” He raises the plastic bag he is holding in his left hand and it rustles, its weight fighting gravity. Different aromas waft from it, enhanced by the heat of the food filled bowls that Kyungsoo has packed before coming.

They could have ordered pizza or Chinese or something, but he likes cooking and has been dying to try a few easy recipes, so there.

Jongin looks genuinely surprised. “Ohmygod. You don’t understand – I’m so hungry right now. Here – I’ll take it, come inside,” he says as he relieves Kyungsoo of the bag, rushing inside to make some space for him.

Kyungsoo feels warm, but in a nice way this time because he is on his own little cloud of happiness. He follows the other inside, and closes the door behind them.

 

Kyungsoo brought food, and Jongin, alcohol.

It surprises the maintenance man, not because he assumed the other didn’t drink or something else along the lines. It’s just that it speaks of a level of comfort that he didn’t think they had reached yet, especially considering he has never been one to use alcohol to meet strangers to begin with.

And Jongin, as soon as they begin to eat (fresh green tea and avocado pastas) and drink (mostly  local beers, but there’s wine, too), mentions some games that he has really been wanting to try with someone, and Kyungsoo believes that is something simple enough that he already feels satisfied with his evening.

The food is good, the taste of it easily overwhelmed by that of alcohol after each bite, and the conversation flows. 

“To think I was sure you were younger than me…”

“Hey, I’m not that old. I’m just one year ahead, literally.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe, but your face is _much_ , I don’t know, softer than mine?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. He is starting to feel quite at ease with Jongin by now. “I don’t agree. And because yours isn’t? You talk as if you don’t even have baby fat left in your cheeks, but you still do.”

Jongin gasps in mock offense and pats his own cheeks before he settles for a more serious look. “Does it show that much?” He purses his lips. “I’ve been training but uh, it’s kind of hard.”

Kyungsoo snorts. “Come on. Don’t worry. I’m teasing.”

It’s weird. He never teases anyone. And he truly hopes Jongin doesn’t think his face is too soft – but then, what would be so bad about a soft face anyway? Is that some internalised negative masculinity thing? Probably.

“But I don’t think your face is that soft, either. I mean, it’s soft, but you also have strong features. If that makes any sense.” It sounds like Jongin is trying to make up for his weird comments by throwing some more weirdness into the mix.

“Right, Jongin. It’s just my face.”

Jongin laughs, leaning back against the couch. They are both on the floor of the living room, the bowls and glasses spread all over the small table. “Okay, yeah, sorry. I had a long day, so the alcohol is hitting me already. Can’t help but look at your face. It’s pretty.”

Kyungsoo hums and averts his eyes, gulping down some pasta with some more beer. Truth be told, he’s feeling quite flustered at the moment. Observed. It’s a weird conjugation of annoying and amusing. “’S okay. I guess you have the right to look at it.” No one has ever complimented him like that before – _if_ it can count as such.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to stress you.” Kyungsoo turns to Jongin, then, and shrugs. Jongin’s lips are contorted in a light pout, and he huffs. “Come on, I’m saying too many weird things, let’s play games.”

Kyungsoo certainly doesn’t mind going ahead with video games. If anything, it’ll help in emptying his mind.

 

Jongin yawns, and Kyungsoo only needs to push him on the shoulder once for him to flop on the floor in a mess of limbs.

“Why did you do that.”

Kyungsoo smiles and holds back a laugh. “I think you’re wasted and tired, Jongin. It’s late.”

The other grunts and supports himself on his elbows, frowning. “So?”

“So,” Kyungsoo begins, “you should sleep.”

He, himself, is not quite sober anymore. The room is spinning a bit, and he feels all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t really want to walk back home for outside looks way too cold and far, but it will definitely help in clearing up his mind.

It’s well into the night already; they played and talked for hours.

Beside him, Jongin mumbles. “I can sleep on the floor…”

Kyungsoo turns lazily toward him and pokes his foot. “I’ll help you up. Come on.”

It’s funny how his anxiety and awkwardness have receded in good chunks just because the other is inebriated. It’s a bit as if because he knows the other isn’t quite there, quite mentally present, he doesn’t fear acting freely as much as usual.

So he gets up, albeit with heavy limbs and tired eyes, and pulls at Jongin’s arms. “Come on. Sit up. Only then can I help.”

Jongin twists around for a bit and tries to bite one of Kyungsoo’s ankles before he settles for listening and sits on the floor with a long suffering sigh. “You know, you could just sleep here. I have a big bed.”

Kyungsoo brings him up and guides him to the bedroom, one step at the time. They are warm, one against the other, and it isn’t something Kyungsoo has truly experienced before.

He was never really one to go beyond his own bubble.

“I don’t know, I think it’d be better if I went.” He is tired, and while he is drunk, he doesn’t know if sleeping in someone else’s bed won’t prevent him from getting actual rest. After all, it’s not his bed, not his own scent, and there will be a certain someone that he has been crushing on right beside him.

He helps Jongin onto the bed and instantly, the younger begins to try to pull off his shirt, whining when he doesn’t get it right. “I can’t take it off, help?”

Kyungsoo can feel his cheeks becoming red, redder than they already are, even, before he sits on the bed and helps the other out of his t-shirt. Then, he pushes him back on the mattress, carefully avoiding to look at the now revealed expense of skin.

And nipples.

Right, not looking at all.

“I’ll go. I, uh… that was nice. The evening. I mean, thank you, Jongin.”

The sleepy one smiles, then, and rolls toward the wall before patting the space beside him. “Come on. Leave later. You’re drunk too.”

What about his nice words on the evening, uh? Doesn’t Jongin care? 

As a matter of fact, the more Kyungsoo thinks about it, the more the walk back home appears downright dreadful to him. That is why he gives up, he tells himself, shoulders sagging as he climbs into the bed and buries his face against a pillow.

Alcohol is a depressant; his heart shouldn’t be beating as fast as it is now, his hands shouldn’t tremble as strongly as they do now, but it’s all happening anyway and it feels like he is going to die and ascend to heaven all at once.

 _This_ – this easy relationship, this boy who just seems to accept him for whatever he says and whatever he does and just, apparently, wants to spend some more time with him, is all he could ever have asked for.

Jongin mumbles a confused “good night” and turns away, his slow breaths turning into light snores before Kyungsoo decides to get rid of his very much annoying pants.

Then, he turns on his own side so that he faces the door, butterflies in his stomach and lead in his eyelids as he lets a drunken slumber take over him.

 

The next morning is, for lack of a better word, weird.

Kyungsoo wakes up because of the impression that he’s burning up, only to belatedly understand that Jongin is cuddling up to him from behind.

The younger is, quite literally, the human embodiment of a fully functioning heater on a cold, frisky winter morning. Alas winter isn’t here yet, and so Kyungsoo is a tad bit too hot.  

If he were to be honest with himself, though, he doesn’t mind the sudden, surprising physical proximity all that much. If the one cuddling up to him was Baekhyun, then of course it would be a completely different matter; but instead it’s just Jongin, adorable, nice, easy Jongin who seems to be very much unaware of the fact that he is using Kyungsoo as a teddy bear.

He shifts a bit, wriggles, trying to relieve some of the pressure he has been putting for hours on the same specific muscles because of his sleeping position without waking the other up already.

That’s when he feels _it_ , pressing against the back of his thighs, thighs that are very much naked save for the underwear he had the decency to keep on before going to bed a few hours ago.

Instantly, his whole body stiffens, even more so when Jongin hums sleepily, moves and tightens his grip on the older man some more. Help? What is he to do?

Jongin is very much hard and and hot and pressing against Kyungsoo through only a pair of sweatpants, and while the maintenance man is very much aware that morning woods are random and possible even after a night of binging on depressants, it, well, unsettles him deeply, for it leaves in his own guts a burning fire that he doesn’t want to deal with.

That, and he seriously, sincerely needs to pee.

Gnawing on his lower lip with enough strength to draw some blood, he takes his courage in both hands and begins to try to push Jongin away, gently, so that he can at the very least extirpate himself from the grip.

He freezes as Jongin whines almost as would a pitiful child. When he manages to twist around enough to take a look at the other’s face, he assesses that his eyes are still closed and his lips, parted.

Sleeping.

So he doesn’t quite follow what happens next, but his very own hand reaches out only to pat Jongin’s adorable, puffy face a few times until he wakes up. He regrets it, and yet not as he sees the other’s eyelids fluttering open, his eyes teary and a bit red from sleep and the remnants of a long, late night. His own voice is gruff when he calls out to the other. “Hey.”

Jongin looks around for a few instants, licking his chapped lips before he answers anything. “Hey… is there a problem?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. No problem, beside the other’s morning wood. And, you know, his chest filled with all sorts of weird, cheesy feelings for the younger. Beside that, nothing else. Right.

“N-No, everything’s fine, I just needed to pee, and uh…” He sits up in the bed, gesticulating in a slightly uncoordinated way at Jongin. Ah, morning motor skills. “And uh, well, you were clinging to me. So I woke you up?” He hopes that doesn’t sound too cheap.

Jongin, though, just nods along. “Oh. Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise…” He sits up too, flinching before a pink hue wash over his cheeks. “Sorry. Seems like uh…” He actually is staring at his very own crotch with a discouraged look on his face. Ah.

Kyungsoo’s breath hitches in his throat. He feels bad for Jongin. “Don’t be embarrassed? I mean. It happens? It’s normal? It doesn’t have to mean, well, anything…”

The other raises his eyes to him, then, and chuckles. “Yeah, I guess.”

The way he says it causes goosebumps to erupt all over Kyungsoo’s skin and he clears his throat awkwardly, standing up and readjusting his own underwear. “I shouldn’t… I mean I should leave quickly.”

Jongin’s lower lip juts out before he speaks. “Yeah, okay…” He seems a bit wary, and maybe even slightly sad that Kyungsoo suddenly seems so eager to leave.

“I mean… do you have some time for a quick breakfast out?”

Almost immediately, Jongin’s eyes are on him, filled with something quite like hope. He hesitates before talking again, but he appears to be relieved. “I know a place right around the corner that offer quick breakfasts. ‘S that okay?”

Kyungsoo is shaking and almost panicking inside, but he nods and smiles. “Yeah, sure.”

 

They don’t talk about the boner, and so Kyungso doesn’t know if in the end Jongin just ignored it or took the matters into his own hands before they went out to eat.

In a way, maybe it’s better if he doesn’t come upon any actual answer. It might be too much for his brain and heart to take all at once.

The breakfast is nice and easy and Kyungsoo doesn’t actually have anything planned today but he still rushes back home right after, his chest tight and his palms clammy as he hurriedly finds his own room and then his own bed.

Baekhyun knocks on his door many times, asks him if he’s okay in a tone both worried and mocking all at once, and Kyungsoo proceeds to ignore him for the entirety of the day.  

The evening, sleeping into Jongin’s bed, the random boner, the talking – maybe all of this is too much for him to take in.

He can’t help it, can’t help the sudden crushing overthinking cycle that begins, can’t help the physical expression of his internal fears and wonders, and it just frustrates him so much.

He knows that by the end of the breakfast, he probably looked pale and unhappy, and Jongin must now think that he has offended him in some way even though it isn’t the case _at all_. The other man has been nothing but wonderful.

It’s just, once more and once again, his mind, his protection mechanisms acting up in the most stupid of ways and making the rest of his day quite shitty; he lies in bed, doesn’t dare to look or even recharge his dead phone, doesn’t shower, doesn’t really eat – nothing. He does nothing. He just stares blankly at the ceiling, tries to get some more sleep in in his affection deprived system, and sulks.

It’s not the first time it happens, and it probably won’t be the last.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Jongin.

It’s, rather, that he fancies him way too much, and it scares him.

 

Kyungsoo makes a mistake, a pretty big one.

He doesn’t show up to work on Monday, and the next two days, he avoids going near Jongin’s apartment or greeting him each time he so much as catches a glimpse of the university student in the corridors.

He doesn’t want to do this, not really, but it happens anyway.

Each night when he comes back home, he broods some more, beating himself for being such an irrational, unfair idiot. Jongin texts him, asks him what’s wrong and tells him that he is sorry again and again even though it is pretty clear that he isn’t sure what he did wrong to Kyungsoo to begin with, and the oldest feels terrible for it.

Things were going well, weren’t they? So why is he acting like that?

Baekhyun’s nagging answer comes back to his mind each time, loud and crystal clear. _That’s because you don’t want to take responsibility for anything related to anyone you like._

Well _of course_ he doesn’t want to: it implies too much, and he doesn’t want to get hurt.

It wouldn’t exactly be the first time Kyungsoo happens to retreat from a situation in such a way. Baekhyun knows that by now as he has been his roommate for years, and they have known each other for even longer.

One morning, he locks Kyungsoo outside the apartment with the promise that if he doesn’t bring back good news about Jongin in the evening, he can “go sleep elsewhere”. It roughly translates to the “move your ass and stop avoiding him and only then can you come back” kind of quest.  

Long story short, it fuels Kyungsoo’s breakdown even more. He panics, he even hides and cries in a calm alley for a bit, only to then try to cool down a bit for he still needs to go in to work because he is the only one on the floor today, and, well. Maybe Baekhyun is right.

 

When he turns on his phone right before the end of his break, he realises there are quite a few missed calls, and quite a few unopened text messages.

Most are from Jongin, and one call is from his mother, asking him to give news because he has been too silent in the past few weeks.

He sighs, and puts back the phone in his work pants’ right pocket.

He still has about three hours to go before the end of his shift, and he thinks, maybe, maybe he could just, you know, try and see if Jongin is in his apartment, and if he isn’t, then he should call him. As long as he does something, right?

 

Knocking on apartment 605’s door takes literally all of his strength, physically as much as mentally.

He is tired, incredibly sleepy, still very anxious and irritated – but also very much determined to give Jongin some explanations and apologies.

Because that’s the only thing he can do, right?

No one answers at first. His ears can only pick up on the faint buzz of the hallway’s neon lights, and he frowns, momentarily all too aware of how empty the building is.

He knocks again, exactly five more times, not too strong nor too weak to be heard. (It’s always five times.)

One of his knuckles begins to burn on the last knock and when he looks down to take a look at it, he realises it has split open, the skin rough and tight from all the exaggerated washing they have been through.

He brings it to his lips, sucking on the faintest trace of blood, when the door swings open. He is startled, his eyes going wide as they take in the sight of Jongin wearing a pyjama with dog imprints.

Cute.

Tufts of his hair stick everywhere and his eyes are a bit red; he, more than anything else, seems genuinely surprised by Kyungsoo’s presence. “Uh… yeah?” It hangs awkwardly in the air and Kyungsoo clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

He can’t back out now. He did something wrong. “I wanted to apologise. For being an ass.”

Usually, he would have stopped at “apologise”, and Jongin would have had to ask “why?” for him to explain, to precise just _why_ the apology.

He is glad he went straight to the point for once. Proud, almost.

Jongin frowns on the doorstep and cards a hand through his messy hair, uncertainty darkening his eyes for a bit. “I… you mean, for leaving me in the dark for the past days?” His voice is dry, not as warm and soft as usual, a bit as if he was recovering from a cold.

Kyungsoo nods and tries to keep his expression calm, even as his fists begin to tense and relax repeatedly. “I… I freaked out. I’m not sure why – and I really, really like you. So I’m sorry. I… I should’ve told you something.”

Jongin’s features contort in a pained grimace just then and he averts his eyes, sniffing. “Right. Okay. I thought it might be that. Just – text me or something next time it happens, ok? I’d appreciate it.”

His voice breaks toward the end of the sentence, and Kyungsoo’s heart gives a burning squeeze. There’s a lot of emphasis put on the _appreciate_ , he notices. “Are you crying?”

Jongin rolls his eyes and huffs, wiping at the corner of his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “Well, apparently, okay? I’ve been sleeping like shit, and you didn’t tell me anything, and I thought, I don’t know, maybe you thought I was an asshole or disgusting or something or–” He’s rambling, vocalising all of his worries at once and it’s dizzying to take in.

Kyungsoo shakes his head and raises his hands, laying one carefully on Jongin’s left shoulder. “No, no, no, no, it’s really not like that, please, I really like you. Don’t cry, please, I’m sorry.” He feels bad, hell, he feels _horrible_ because he has caused Jongin a lot more troubles than he thought he would, and they are supposed to be grown-ups, but instead, Kyungsoo just created a misunderstanding that brings back sour memories of his childhood.

Jongin laughs dryly, then, and proceeds to force-bring Kyungsoo into a weird hug right on the doorstep. “You don’t get to move until I tell you to.” He buries his nose against the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, eliciting delicious shivers on the sensitive skin there, and sniffs pitifully as his grip tightens. Kyungsoo doesn’t know how to react at first, but eventually he brings his own arms up and around Jongin’s frame, hesitant and then confident.

It’s not over yet, but he feels lighter already.

 

Once his shift is over, he makes his way back to Jongin’s apartment and the younger lets him in for a quick shared dinner.

He has made a kind of weird but good vegan sauté because he only had vegetables left to use in his fridge, and Kyungsoo can feel his heart swell up in his chest when that reminds him of that grocery “date” they had a little while ago. If he takes the time to think of it, it had been awkward, and yet just funny, too.

Now, Jongin can cook broccoli and pepper without leaving them hard and burned, and he has learned to season them pretty well. (The boy didn’t even use salt or pepper or paste before.) It’s good, easy on the taste buds, and Kyungsoo compliments him once or twice throughout the evening.

They don’t talk much and the atmosphere is still a bit heavy, but it’s a start, and Kyungsoo thinks he will have a place and a bed where to sleep tonight.

No, he won’t stay here at Jongin’s place; he is definitely going back to his own bubble, because he believes both of them will need it.

But, maybe, soon again, he can ask Jongin out.

 

Once he is on the doorstep once more and ready to go out, a hand holds him back, pulling at the hem of his shirt.

He turns around, his eyebrows raised, and receives a much unexpected kiss on the cheek from Jongin.

The younger still seems to be sulking and thus offers no words to clarify his actions, proceeding to push Kyungsoo outside with a curt yet warm “ _good night_ ”. He stumbles, and finds himself alone in the corridor, unsure of what to do.

He eventually goes back home with a heart ready to burst and burning cheeks, the imprint of Jongin’s lips on his skin still very real.

 

A few days later, Kyungsoo is home and Baekhyun just left with the promise that he wouldn’t be back until a few days. Apparently, Chanyeol, Sehun and him have been wanting to go on a short road trip for a while, and Kyungsoo can only make sure to repeat to Baekhyun to be careful with his money and friends before he is left alone in the apartment.

There is no clock ticking to fill the silence, but rather the ambient noises of the neighborhood and the humming of the different kitchen appliances.

Kyungsoo should really get a cat, or a dog, or even a rat for that matter. He has heard they make great pets, great friends.

It would make things a little bit less lonely on such days, and maybe having an animal companion would just, ultimately, be nice.

He wanders around for a little while in only his boxers and a t-shirt before he settles on the couch and turns on the TV. Then, he grabs his cellphone from where it was charging, connected to the wall near the couch, and scrolls for a bit on Facebook and Twitter.

Nothing much is happening; he follows gamers and such so he is mostly inactive on all of the websites and apps he uses from time to time.

A text pops his bubble, though, and instinctively his finger presses it.

It’s Jongin, asking _hey, are you free today?_

And oh boy, yes, Kyungsoo is most definitely free today.

He types back, feeling butterflies begin to fill his stomach before he is even done with his text.

_Yeah, want to come over? My roommate is gone and you’ve never visited our place…_

He makes sure not to make it sound dirty or anything like that, just in case. He, really, will be happy if he can just see Jongin for a bit and talk with him. Maybe they could play a bit of his own video games?

His cellphone buzzes in his hands, and he focuses his attention back on it. _Yeah sure, give me the address plsssssss_

He snorts and texts the coordinates to Jongin. The more he gets to know him, the more he realises the other is a bit of a dork – and, in a way, it’s the nicest gift of all to get to know someone to a point where his anxiety levels are actually going down instead of up.

It hasn’t happened in a long time, and he hopes, dearly so, that it means he has made progress.

 

Jongin arrives about an hour later with plastic bags filled with chips and candies. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at the sight of these but gives him the permission to enter anyway. “I see someone had some cravings.”

Jongin shrugs and dumps everything on the kitchen isle, a cheesy smile on his face. “Come on, Soo, you’re not that old and boring. I know you like those,” he says as he takes out one particular bag of spicy potato chips, and then he picks out a bag of sour candies as well. “And those. Like, you told me you’re not even vegetarian or vegan, but you still avoid gelatin? And these don’t have any.”

Kyungsoo can’t help the tiny smile that cause his lips to stretch and an embarrassed laugh bubbles up from deep inside. “Alright, I can be a bit… too much.”

“Don’t mind. Let’s play. I don’t want to think about my homework,” is all the younger add as they make their way to the couch.

 

Hours pass by. It is beginning to be quite late, but Kyungsoo doesn’t feel like suggesting Jongin leaves and he is fairly certain that the younger doesn’t want to go yet either.

They are both on the couch, both wearing a lazy attire, and have settled for a zombie movie when they became too hungry to continue playing games. It’s just that instead of going back to them, they are now talking as the movie evolves on screen.

There is one thing in particular that Kyungsoo has been dying to ask for a few days.

“I have this question, hum.”

Awkward. Jongin guffaws beside him and Kyungsoo pushes him against the armrest of the couch, the lightest of pouts on his face. The younger sticks his tongue out at him and stretches. “Not my fault if you’re funny like that. Don’t worry, though, I like you _because_ you’re awkward.”

“Ha, ha. Right.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and settles on the other end of the couch once more, hesitation creeping and building up the longer he stays silent and goes over the question in his head.

Jongin looks at him, tilts his head, and nods encouragingly. “You can ask whatever you want. Don’t fret over it.”

“Right, okay.” But he _is_ stressing over the question now. Just, maybe not enough to not ask.

“You said once that you were, like, medicated for mental stuff. What did you mean by that?”

Kyungsoo almost expects the atmosphere to darken instantly, but it doesn’t. Instead, Jongin shifts, readjusts his position on the couch to bring his knees against his chest as he starts humming to himself.

He seems to be searching for words, and Kyungsoo will give him all the time he needs.

“I’ve… well, my parents admitted me to the hospital, like, three years ago. They thought I was going to kill myself.”

Kyungsoo’s heart stops, stumbles, starts again. What?

“Wait – why? I mean, what?”

He isn’t sure if he wants to know everything anymore. He isn’t sure what to ask anymore, specifically.  

Jongin avoids his gaze for a bit and sighs. “I’m okay. I swear I am, most of the time anyway, so don’t worry. It’s just… I didn’t see a way out. Always had a tendency to act impulsively, too. At that time, I… couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do much, anyway, and one day one of my older sisters phoned my parents and told them to come back from work because I wouldn’t come out of my room anymore.”

It’s a new light in which to see the easygoing, caring man he has gotten closer to in the past few weeks. He suddenly feels small, incredibly so, and inattentive for not having noticed anything before.

Was there really anything to notice, though?

Jongin seems to pick up on his unease almost instantly, and before he knows it, the younger is sitting on top of him. And hugging him. Oh.

“I didn’t think telling you… I didn’t think it was something to tell you unless you asked. Which you did.”

Kyungsoo swallows, then, heavily so. “Why didn’t you see a way out? I mean – a way out from what?”

It’s Jongin’s turn to swallow audibly and he shrugs before formulating an answer. “Life. It was just about life, ‘Soo. Sure, I could have put it all on the fact that I knew I didn’t want to study what my parents wanted me to study, or on the fact that I knew I wasn’t just straight, but… it’s just how it was, you know.”

Somehow, it makes enough sense like that.

 

Jongin doesn’t move from his spot on Kyungsoo for most of the following hours, that is, until Kyungsoo tries to prompt him up because they should go sleep, or shower, or at least clean up the living room table a bit, _something_.

They haven’t spoken about it, too, but it has become pretty obvious that Jongin isn’t going back to his place anytime soon tonight.

“Jongin, I swear, move.”

“I don’t see why I should. I’m pretty comfortable right now. You have nice thighs.”

“I don’t care what you think of my thighs, just – ”

“You do.”

“What?”

“You care what I think of your thighs. You care what I think of –”

“Oh, come on, move already, or I’m throwing you in the tub!”

“You only have a shower?”

Exasperated sigh. Kyungsoo summons all the strength he has and lifts Jongin in his arms, who, taken by surprise, yelps and holds on to him for dear life.

And, as he had threatened he would, Kyungsoo throws him in the shower stall. Well, gently so, because he doesn’t want to hurt him per se – and then he turns on the water and Jongin shrieks from under the still cold liquid, yelling as Kyungsoo laughs. Maybe that was a bit too sadistic, but Jongin asked for it –

Only then, Jongin pulls at Kyungsoo’s leg until the older slips and falls onto the hard surface with him, wet barely a few seconds later.

“Ugh, you’re an ass.”

He’s twenty-four, and Jongin, twenty-three – two “grown-ups”, apparently, playing around like teenagers unaware that wasting water is actually bad for the environment _and_ the wood under the ceramic tiles.

But if feels fantastic, selfishly so, and Kyungsoo doesn’t want it to stop.

He splashes water all over Jongin’s frame and face as he is still holding the shower’s nozzle, and Jongin laughs and whines all at once, trying to pin him down. He fails, many times in a row, before he finally moves fast enough to knock the nozzle off Kyungsoo’s hand and quite literally jumps on him.

Kyungsoo’s wheezing by then, in a weird state of mind stuck between pure amusement and the awareness of Jongin’s wet limbs against his.

He blinks, trying to clear the water droplets from his eyelashes when he realises that Jongin has stopped moving above him, and is met with the sight of two amber orbs filled with _something_ that he can’t exactly pinpoint before a pair of lips crash against his own.

A part of his brain shuts down on the spot, unable to cope with the reality of the situation. The other part, though, is ecstatic, and he finds himself answering Jongin with ardor, hands finding strands of wet hair and patches of wet cotton to pull at as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss.

What follows is only natural, and so he goes along Jongin’s rhythm, eyelids falling shut as that telltale heat expands in the pit of his stomach.

Before he knows it, they have discarded their shirts; hands wander, lips explore, and he has never known something truer than the sensation of Jongin’s flaming skin against his.

Eventually, a hand makes its way down, between his legs.

His voice betrays him, and Jongin smirks, his fingers deft and gentle as he begins to work him up to the point all he wants is direct relief. He complains, pulls at hair and bites a shoulder before the hand finally slips into the still present piece of wet, sticky clothing to give him what he wants, what he needs.

 

“Wait wait wait – before we continue, I want to know something.”

Kyungsoo looks up in disbelief. Jongin is straddling him, naked and very much hard – and he wants to know something _now_?

What is it that is so important?

He almost can’t hear him over the loud beats of his heart against his eardrums, and his hands are unsure of where to go, so Jongin grabs them and guides them to his own hips.

They had quickly decided that cold clothes and a shower stall maybe weren’t actually that great, and had promptly dried themselves off to make their way to Kyungsoo’s bedroom.

A bed, quite comfy at that, can never be a bad choice.

“Since we are doing all of this,” Kyungsoo supposes he is referring to them very much having sex with each other right now, and nods.

“Would you agree to be my boyfriend?”

Oh. So that’s what Jongin wanted to know. 

Kyungsoo blinks once, twice, then inhales, exhales noisily – okay. Okay.

He doesn’t have to freak out. It doesn’t have to be complicated.

It doesn’t have to be the end of something great.

Instead, it could be the beginning of something amazing, right?

Above him, the younger is chewing on his lower lip, clearly trying to anticipate all of Kyungsoo’s possible answers.

He, though, knows what he wants. It’s only a matter of pulling it out of his chest, and out of his throat, and out into the tangible world.

“No pressure, though.” Jongin seems worried.

Kyungsoo shakes his head, then remember that he is trying to say, _yes_.

_Yes, I want to be your boyfriend, and I want you to be my boyfriend._

“Yes.”

It’s all he gets, it’s all he can give Jongin, but it is just enough, and the latter’s eyes shine with relief as he leans down to kiss Kyungsoo again.

 

Kyungsoo works today, and in all seriousness, he just doesn’t want to go in.

But he knows he has to, and he knows there are only two days left before the weekend, so he should be fine. He has to be fine.

He slept pretty well. It is somewhat new, the complete nights; a definite help, too, in dealing with mood swings, irritants and just sudden repairs at the job.

When he exits his room, he takes in Baekhyun, sprawled on the couch in the living room and snoring, and he shakes his head. Whoever bought Baekhyun those shots must have been pretty or handsome, because it’s the second time this week that his roommate doesn’t even make it to his bed. He supposes he will have to inquire about it later.

The walk to the apartment complex is not too long nor too short today, a peaceful morning where he doesn’t feel like his skin will fall off because of the scalding rays of the sun. Instead, there are clouds, just enough that the air is cool but not too many that it is freezing.

He greets the front desk clerk when he comes in and then goes straight for the small maintenance locale at the end of the corridor. No one is in yet when he enters, but that’s okay; he reads over the repair notes, listens to the registered calls addressed to the maintenance employees and finally turns on his walkie-talkie before hanging it at his belt.

The first task that he needs to carry out today brings him to apartment 605.

He knocks, five times precisely, and waits.

A sense of peace and love washes over him when the door parts open to reveal Jongin, clad in only dark sweats and a slightly too tight white shirt. “You’ve taken one of mines again, I see,” Kyungsoo comments, a grin threatening to spread across his lips even as he tries to make his tone chastising.

Jongin shrugs, unconcerned, and leans in. His lips brush against Kyungsoo’s and he blushes only the slightest bit as the younger beams. “It’s the balcony door, actually, so I hope you can fix it or you won’t get your thank you note.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and walks past him, his fingers interlacing with Jongin’s as the younger reaches out for him. “You will thank me anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> SO:  
> 1\. THANK YOU for giving this story a try.  
> 2\. I'm sorry if the depictions of anxiety aren't accurate to you; I tried, I wrote according to my own experience and such, but it doesn't mean everyone can relate to it the same way and please notify me if anything was problematic to you!  
> 3\. THANK YOU AGAIN. 
> 
> Anyway yes, now let me go crawl in a hole and never come out of it, thank you, babaye, love you


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